


Perfect Sense

by hazelNuts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Artist Derek Hale, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, POV Derek, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15363642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: Derek recognizes Stiles as his Soulmate immediately when he meets him. The timing isn't great, since Stiles is there to look into the break-in Derek reported. But that's fine. Beacon Hills is a small town and Derek's sure he can "accidentally" bump into the Deputy again.And then Stiles shows up at his door.It’s them. The eyes, a light brown that turns almost golden in the light, the expression in them curious, knowing, and mirthful, all at the same time.Derek knows it’s them. Those eyes have filled his dreams and sketch pads since he was sixteen. He’s tried to paint them so many times, always failing; the colours too flat; no life in those big beautiful eyes; the shadows the long lashes cast, never quite right.His soulmate is standing in front of him.





	Perfect Sense

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> The gorgeous art this fic is inspired by was made by [witchaphe](http://witchaphe.tumblr.com/)  
> And many thanks to Krista ([daydreams-and-memories](http://daydreams-and-memories.tumblr.com/) for being my beta!

 

 

 _It_ _’s them._ The eyes, a light brown that turns almost golden in the light, the expression in them curious, knowing, and mirthful, all at the same time.

Derek knows it’s them. Those eyes have filled his dreams and sketch pads since he was sixteen. He’s tried to paint them so many times, always failing; the colours too flat; no _life_ in those big beautiful eyes; the shadows the long lashes cast, never quite right.

His soulmate is standing in front of him.

‘Mr Hale?’

Derek blinks, flushing when he realizes he’s been staring. He clears his throat and nods. ‘Please, call me Derek.’

‘I’m Deputy Stilinski. You called about a break in?’

‘Oh, right. Yes, I did.’ Derek quickly steps aside to let the deputy in.

He takes in the rest of his soulmate as his soulmate takes in the loft. He’s beautiful, and hot. Not that Derek would’ve cared if they weren’t, but it’s a nice bonus. The light brown eyes are set in a cute face speckled with moles, with a cute button nose that Derek wants to touch. His body seems fit, but the guy obviously isn’t a gym rat the way Derek is. The uniform fits him loosely, comfortably, and a little tighter around a very nice ass that is emphasized by his heavy belt.

‘It’s a lot lighter in here than you’d expect from the outside,’ Deputy Stilinski notes.

‘What?’ Derek guiltily looks up from the man’s ass to his eyes, meeting raised eyebrows and the beginnings of a knowing smirk. More blood rushes to his face, and forces himself to remember what the deputy just asked, to figure out an answer before the guy thinks he’s lost his mind. Or only called the Sheriff’s station because he has a uniform kink. Which he apparently does. ‘Yeah, it’s why I bought it,’ Derek says. ‘You really don’t get light like this in most apartment buildings.’

‘Isn’t it annoying to have your bed up there by the windows?’ The deputy nods at the platform by the window Derek’s bed is standing on. With more than a little relief, Derek sees that he actually remembered to make his bed that morning.

‘Not really.’ Derek shakes his head, both in denial and to get rid of the image of the deputy _in the bed_. He really has to stop this. The guy’s has a job to do. ‘I’m an early riser, and the windows face north, so the sun’s never directly shining in.’

The deputy hums and nods, walks a little further inside as Derek closes the door, and looks around a little more.

‘So… What exactly did they take? I can’t tell if you live this spartan, or if they robbed you blind,’ Deputy Stilinski says with teasing smile.

Derek huffs out a laugh. ‘They didn’t take anything from down here. Come on, I’ll show you.’

He leads the deputy up the spiral staircase at the far end of the room. Upstairs, he points out the kitchen and the guest bedrooms, then puts his hand on the door of his studio. Nerves hit him hard, his heart pounding and his vision blurring for a moment.

Deputy Stilinski has given no indication that Derek’s his soulmate, so far. His soulmate sense probably isn’t sight, then, but it might be smell. The smell of an art studio is very particular, there’s no mistaking it.

‘Everything okay?’ the deputy’s voice is soft. ‘Some people find it hard to go back into their home when they’ve had a break in. I can go first if you’d like?’

Derek turns to say that it’s okay, that he isn’t scared, but the concern in Deputy Stilinski’s eyes catches him off guard, so he just shakes his head and opens the door.

Over the years, he’s become so used to the mixed smells of paints, paper, charcoal and cleaning supplies, that he doesn’t even notice them anymore. They’ve become the smells of home. He notices it now, though, as he walks into his studio on shaky legs, and all his self-control is poured into not immediately turning around and seeing his soulmate’s reaction. That lasts until he sees the open sketchpad, Deputy Stilinski’s eyes staring out from the page, on one of the stools and he quickly closes it. He whirls around to check that the deputy hadn’t seen it.

Just in time.

‘That’s still wet!’ he warns.

Deputy Stilinski snatches his hand back from where he was reaching for one of Derek’s paintings, and throws him an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry.’ He joins Derek, his hands stuffed into his pockets. ‘So, I’m guessing some of your paintings were stolen?’

‘Well…’ Derek hesitates. Now he’s nervous for a whole other reason, because this has the potential to get really awkward. He walks to the far corner where he has a stack of finished paintings leaning against the wall, each painting individually covered and protected by a sheet. ‘This is where I keep everything I’ve finished and know won’t be using in an upcoming show. I don’t look through them often unless I’m looking for one in particular.’

‘Right.’ Deputy Stilinski nods and pulls out a notebook and a pen. ‘When you called it in, you said that you didn’t know when the break in had taken place. That why?’

‘Yes. I mean, it’s probably somewhere in the last three days. Before that I was kind of shut in, working. My sisters dragged me outside and I had a meeting about a show yesterday.’

The deputy nods again and scribbles something. ‘Okay. Can you describe the works that were stolen?’

 ‘I have pictures.’

‘Perfect.’ Deputy Stilinski’s eyes light up at the prospect at his job being made a little easier.

Derek sighs and pulls out his phone. This really is going to get awkward. Not a great first impression on his soulmate, even worse if he’s Deputy Stilinski’s soulmate, too. He pulls up the album, scrolls through it, and hands it over.

‘Uhm,’ The deputy Stilinski looks from the phone to Derek, his brow contracted, the gold of his eyes darkening as he narrows them in suspicion. ‘I’m pretty sure this is hanging in a museum somewhere.’

‘The _original_ ,’ Derek says with emphasises, ‘hangs in The Met, in New York.’

‘Right. So…’

‘I copy works for practicing new techniques and styles,’ Derek explains. ‘It also helps when I’m blocked. And they make good presents to friends and family.’

‘You don’t sell them?’

Derek shakes his head. ‘Of course not, that would be forgery. I sign all of them with my own name.’

‘Right.’ Deputy Stilinski doesn’t look convinced. ‘Just so I’m getting this right: you copy well-known paintings, not to sell, but for practice, and one of these got stolen?’

‘Not one. Five.’

‘You’re saying there’s five forgeries out there?’ The deputy rubs a hand over his face. ‘Motherfucking hell.’

‘Reproductions,’ Derek corrects him. ‘It’s not forgery unless there’s an intent to sell. And they _can_ _’t_ be sold, because I sign all of them with my own name. They’re basically worthless.’

‘Right, sorry. _Reproductions._ ’ Deputy Stilinski holds up a hand in apology. He scribbles something in his notebook, then freeze. ‘Fuck. I’m gonna have to call all the art galleries and buyers in the area, aren’t I?’

‘I already did that,’ Derek says. Deputy Stilinski looks relieved, and Derek hates to destroy it, but he has to. ‘I figured you might be able to get a wider alert out. There’s databases for this kind of stuff right?’

‘And a shit ton of paperwork,’ the Deputy grumbles. He hands Derek’s phone back with a pained expression. ‘Can you send me pictures of all the works that have been stolen?’

‘Of course.’

Deputy Stilinski hands him a card with his information, then says, ‘Alright just a couple more questions.’

They quickly get through the questions, mostly about things Derek already told them but the deputy needs to confirm: when Derek discovered paintings were missing?; was anything else taken?; when the break in most likely too place? Derek’s answers are the same as he gave the operator that morning: this morning; no; somewhere in the past three days.

‘I don’t think there’s any use in looking for fingerprints, since they might all be gone by now, if they were ever there,’ Deputy Stilinski says as Derek walks him to the front door. ‘Is your lock busted?’

Derek shakes his head.

‘Well, I’d get a new one anyway. And maybe get a security system. You live pretty isolated here.’

‘I will.’

The Deputy leads the way as the walk down the stairs, and Derek has plenty of time to observe him. People have different Soulmate Senses, if they have one at all. Derek’s is Sight, which isn’t surprising since he’s an artist and has been drawing on almost every available surface since he could hold a crayon. His mom’s is also Sight—she’s an accountant who loves old movies—but his dad’s is taste. He’s a teacher, but he’s also the one who does all the cooking. A person’s soulmate sense fits them, and Derek is hoping to figure out what Deputy Stilinski’s is by observing him. Sight and Smell are already out, and it’s probably not Hearing either, which leaves Taste and Touch. He hopes it’s not Taste, because that one is known to be tricky. His dad didn’t know his mom was his soulmate until their first kiss; but Derek doesn’t think that’s the case with Deputy Stilinski. He watches the man’s finger dance over the cast iron railing of the staircase, tap the back of the couch and idly trace the grains in the wood of a side table they pass.

They shake hands as they say goodbye, and Derek tries not to let his hopes get crushed when there’s no sign of recognition on his soulmate’s face. Derek knows the man is his soulmate because he’s seen his eyes, if they’d met while Deputy Stilinski was wearing sunglasses, Derek never would’ve known. So maybe his soulmate just needs to touch him somewhere else.

As Derek closes the door behind the deputy, he’s already thinking of how they might meet again, and how the hell he’s going to get the man to touch him beyond a handshake.

~

Two days later, Derek is working when the doorbell rings. He quickly throws down his brush and pallet, and runs downstairs. He can only hope that when he heard the doorbell, it was the first ring. It wouldn’t be the first time he missed someone because he was so focussed on his work.

When he opens the door, his mind and body come to a full stop. All his plans for his painting fly out the window, and his heart and breath stall when he sees who’s on the other side of the door.

‘Deputy Stilinski,’ he finally manages to squeeze out. He can only hope that it sounds mostly normal.

He’s been wracking his brain on how to casually run into the deputy, without it looking like he’s stalking him, and now he’s here, as if summoned by Derek’s thoughts.

‘Actually, when I’m off duty it’s just Stiles,’ Stiles says. He gestures at his jeans, t-shirt and plaid button up.

Derek takes it all in greedily. So this is what his soulmate looks like in his everyday life, out of his uniform. He looks younger, smaller. He looks like Derek could pick him up and carry him everywhere. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on Derek’s part.

‘Any news about my paintings?’ Derek asks, because why else would Stiles be here?

‘I’m here on personal business, actually.’ Stiles tugs at the bottom of his shirt. ‘Can I come in?’

Derek can’t move for a second. _Does Stiles know they_ _’re soulmates? Is that why he_ _’s here?_ Forcing his hopeful excitement down, Derek steps aside and gestures for Stiles to come in.

‘So what can I help you with?’ Derek asks, his heart beating so loud he’s sure Stiles can hear it.

‘Can you teach me to paint?’

‘What?’ Because… _What?_

‘My dad’s birthday is coming up. Well, it’s actually not for two months, but I’m gonna need at least that long to be able to make something halfway decent,’ Stiles explains. ‘I want to give him something personal, you know. I don’t want to have to give the default gift of socks. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t even unpacked the ones I gave him last year.’

‘Right.’ This isn’t what Derek expected at all. Stiles wants to learn how to paint? ‘I’m not a teacher,’ Derek says. ‘Aren’t there community centres or something where they can teach you?’

‘Yeah, see, the problem with those is that they’re on set times and dates, and my schedule isn’t exactly regular. I’m a single cop with no family except my dad, who is the Sheriff. My shifts are whenever the others can’t work.’

‘Uhm…’ Derek wants to say yes. Teaching Stiles would give him the perfect opportunity to get closer, and the more time they spend together, the more chance of Stiles perhaps finding out that Derek is his soulmate. On the other hand, he’s not a teacher. He doesn’t have the patience, and if Stiles really is as bad as he implies…

‘Please?’ Stiles begs. His eyes go wide and watery, and Derek can feel his resolve break. ‘I’ll pay, of course. And I’ll bring all my own pencils and paint, and whatever else I’ll need.’

And there Derek’s resolve goes. It doesn’t just break, it melts in the face Stiles’ pleas.

‘Fine,’ Derek says. He tries to sound gruff, like he doesn’t actually want Stiles here, in his house, in his studio, but when Stiles breaks out in a beaming smile and punches the air, he smiles and shakes his head. ‘Are you free now?’ he asks.

‘We’re starting already?’

‘If I’m gonna teach you, I need to know where you are skill-wise.’

Stiles glances at his watch. ‘I have to be at a friend’s in two hours. I’m all yours until then.’

‘Great.’ Derek swallows and quickly turns around. He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl on the coffee table as he passes it. ‘Come on then.’

Stiles follows him up the stairs, and Derek can feel the excitement radiating off him. He installs Stiles in a corner with a pencil and a new sketchpad. He sets the apple on a side table, and adjusts one of the lamps to shine on the fruit, creating darker and more obvious shadows.

‘Draw the apple,’ Derek says.

‘Can I get an eraser?’ Stiles asks. ‘I’m gonna need one.’

‘Just flip to a new page when you feel like you’ve messed up.’ Derek sits back down behind his own canvas. ‘Let me know when you’re done.’

They work in relative silence. Stiles is completely focussed on his task, like his world has shrunk to nothing but the apple. Derek can’t help but smile at the way his tongue sticks out from between his lips, and the little crease between his eyebrows. Sue him, it’s cute. Even the way Stiles keeps shifting his position, never sitting still for more than ten minutes is cute; first with his legs crossed, then hunched over, and eventually he manages to sit cross-legged on the small seat.

Derek quickly finds his way back into his own work. He knows Stiles is there, can feel his presence, hear him shifting around, occasionally grumbling before he flips to a new page, but he’s not bothered by it. He thought he would be, or at the very least be distracted by the presence of his soulmate in his studio, but Stiles somehow blends in easily with everything else that makes Derek’s studio his home.

‘I think this is as good as it’s gonna get,’ Stiles finally says. He slides off his stool and shows Derek his drawing.

Derek groans inwardly. ‘Two months till your dad’s birthday you said?’

‘I know,’ Stiles says with a grimace. ‘But something halfway decent, and super simple will do.’

‘How many times a week can you come over?’ Derek asks.

‘At least two or three.’

‘Let’s aim for three.’

Derek puts his utensils down, and takes the sketchpad from Stiles. Leafing through it, he hopes to find something better than what’s on the last page. The pages are filled with blobs that maybe resemble apples, if he squints. There’s no sense of shading or perspective, and he almost regrets saying yes to teaching, but then he looks up at Stiles again, into those beautiful whiskey gold eyes.

‘Text me whenever you’re free,’ he finally says. ‘I’ll make you a list of all the stuff you’ll need and send it to you later today’

‘Great.’ Stiles nods eagerly. ‘I have to go, but I’ll text you tonight, and then we can also agree on a price, okay?’

Derek almost tells him he’ll teach him for free, but then swallows those words. That might seem weird. So he nods.

‘I can show myself out,’ Stiles says. He weaves through the easels, careful not to touch any of them, and at the door throws Derek a final wave before disappearing.

Derek drops his face in his hands. This has the potential to be a disaster, especially if it turns out that the soulmate bond is only one-sided, but what was he supposed to do when Stiles looked at him like _that_?

Too late to think about that now. He’s already said yes. He’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

By the time his front door slides closed behind Stiles, Derek is already back at work, trying really hard to stick to his colour scheme and not slip in too much golden brown.

~

The first week lessons are awkward and formal as they get to know each other, find their rhythm together, but by the second week Stiles is talking Derek’s ear off while they work. It should bother Derek, usually he can’t even listen to music while working. Aside from the amazing natural light, the quiet is another reason he chose the warehouse as his home/workplace: no neighbours, and little traffic. But like everything else about Stiles, his voice blends in easily with everything else in the studio.

He’s been teaching Stiles for almost a month now, and while Stiles’ progress is almost non-existent, Derek’s own work has some definite improvements. A gallery owner who has always turned him down before, is now very interested. They said it was like Derek unlocked something in his soul. Derek had smiled at that. He’d looked at the small stack of Stiles’ sketch pads on one of the workbenches. They weren’t wrong.

‘You staying for dinner?’ Derek asks. He’s almost done for the day. Just a little more, and then he can clean up.

‘Sure.’

Stiles hasn’t just inserted himself into Derek’s professional life, but in his personal life as well. The dinners started in the second week of Derek teaching Stiles. Stiles usually comes over right before or right after his shifts, without leaving time for himself to get dinner any other place than at Derek’s. Derek likes to think that Stiles plans it that way, to spend more time with him. And even if he’s not, Derek’s not one to complain. The dinner’s have allowed him to really get to know his soulmate, and what he’s found so far already has him halfway in love with the guy.

‘Anything in particular you want?’ Derek presses his brush to the canvas, twists, and then quickly pulls the brush up. He steps back and nods. That’ll do. ‘I think I’m gonna order in.’

‘Italian?’ Stiles suggests.

‘Lasagne?’

‘Yes,’ Stiles groans. ‘From that place next to the mall.’

‘Got it.’

Derek cleans up, checks on Stiles’ attempt at painting a daisy, snorts, then quickly exits the studio before Stiles can throw his brush at him.

He knows exactly what Stiles likes, and the food is soon ordered. He sets plates and cutlery on the coffee table, hesitates if he should light some candles as well, then thinks: fuck it. If Stiles wants to make fun of him for it, let him.

Stiles does poke a little fun at him, but not as much as Derek expected.

‘You romantic, you,’ Stiles chuckles as he takes in the candles and neatly folded napkins. He pats Derek’s cheek, a smirk tugging at his lips, then sits down and pours himself a glass of Cola, but not before Derek catches the faint blush tinting Stiles’ cheeks.

The food arrives at that moment, and Derek buzzes in the delivery guy, mentally high-fiving himself as he walks to the door.

Dinner feels different from usual. Maybe it’s because Stiles didn’t have to work today, he’s not tired or in a hurry. Maybe it’s the candles. Maybe it’s just the way things are supposed to progress. Derek just lets it happen. He doesn’t have any real expectations. They haven’t talked much about soulmates. Some people think the concept is ridiculous, that there is one person who is a perfect fit for you, that the universe somehow knows you better than you do, others devote their entire life to finding that one person. Derek likes to think of himself somewhere in the middle, yes, he would love to have his soulmate as his romantic partner—especially now that he’s met Stiles—but he’s not hung up on the idea. He’s a little scared to ask where Stiles falls, so he tries to steer clear of the subject. So, of course, it’s Stiles who brings it up.

‘My parents were soulmates,’ Stiles answers Derek’s question about how his parents met. They’re sitting sideways on the couch, and Derek can’t look away from the dancing lights in Stiles’ eyes as he tells the story. ‘My dad’s soulmate sense was Sight, my mom’s Touch. They met in college and became friends their sophomore year. They didn’t know they were soulmates until my dad accidentally walked in on her getting changed, and my mom jokingly smacked his ass when he tried to apologize.’

Derek bursts out laughing, but clamps his mouth shut when he sees Stiles’ face fall. ‘What it is it?’ he asks. He grabs Stiles’ hand and squeezes.

‘They were so happy. It almost destroyed my dad when she died. Sometimes I think, if it wasn’t for me…’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m not sure he could’ve pulled himself out of it if he didn’t have a kid to think about.’

‘That must’ve been hard.’ Derek wants nothing more than to pull Stiles against him, but instead he just keeps hold of his hand.

‘It was. I was just a kid, so I’m sure I didn’t see even half of his pain, but it’s made me scared of finding my soulmate,’ Stiles admits with a wry smile.

Derek waits for Stiles to continue, forcing the hurricane of emotions not show on his face.

‘What if my soulmate died so soon after me finding them? What if I die?’ Stiles shakes his head. ‘Beacon Hills is pretty quiet, but my job comes with risks. I’m not sure I could do that to them.’

‘Isn’t that for your soulmate to decide?’ Derek asks. Because he has decided. He’s willing to take that risk.

‘I guess it is,’ Stiles agrees. He holds Derek’s gaze for a moment, then he shakes his head, as if to dispel the gloomy thoughts and shrugs. ‘Anyway, maybe my soulmate isn’t even romantic for me. Not that losing a friend would hurt less.’

‘True.’

They move on to lighter subjects, but the conversation keeps replaying in Derek’s head, and he can’t help but wonder: Does Stiles already know if Derek is his soulmate or not? And if he does, is his fear keeping him from saying something?

It’s almost midnight when Stiles finally leaves. Derek walks him to his car. They’ve never been short of topics tonight, but when the door falls shut behind them, they both fall silent. Derek can’t think of a single thing to say.

‘Thank you for staying for dinner,’ Derek says when they reach Stiles’ car.

‘Thank you for paying for dinner,’ Stiles replies. He’s smiling and his eyes are a dark amber in the light of the moon.

Derek takes a step forward, hesitatingly. Stiles doesn’t step back, his eyes are wide and locked on Derek’s, and his smile stays exactly where it is. His heart pounding, Derek leans in. He can feel Stiles’ breath against his lips. Stiles puts his hand on his shoulders, and Derek feels his own lips stretching into a smile.

But then, instead of pulling him closer, Stiles stops him. Derek opens his eyes and Stiles is no longer looking at him. There’s a frown between his brows and he’s looking down.

‘I have to tell you something,’ Stiles says. ‘Before…’ He trails off, and when he looks up his expression is unreadable.

Derek steps back, confused, but hopeful.

‘I lied,’ Stiles explains. ‘When I said I wanted you to teach me how to paint.’

It’s Derek’s turn to frown. Why would Stiles lie about that? Unless… Unless he already figured out he’s Derek’s soulmate, and that maybe Derek’s his, but, as Derek started to suspect tonight, he’s been too scared to scared to say anything. The scattered pieces of hope that have formed over the past month from all the little flirtations between them, from Stiles remembering how Derek likes his coffee, from all the little things that show that Stiles fits perfectly into Derek’s life, and Derek in Stiles’, pull together in Derek’s chest. The ball of hope feels heavy and warm.

Stiles twists his car keys in his hands. ‘I– Shit.’ He rubs his hand over his face and through his hair, messing it up more than it already is. ‘I didn’t believe you when you said you didn’t sell those reproductions.’

‘What?’ The ball of hope shatters, leaving Derek feeling cold and empty.

‘I needed to get close to you, get in your house to…’ Stiles clenches his jaw.

‘To investigate,’ Derek fills in. He takes a step back, away from Stiles. ‘You were investigating me this entire time.’

‘Derek, I’m–‘

‘No!’ Derek cuts him off. He takes another step back when Stiles moves towards him. ‘You don’t get to say you’re sorry. If you’d just told me, asked if you could see my bank accounts, or… whatever, I would have given them to you. I would’ve given you…’ _Everyting._ He swallows the bile rising up. He needs to get out of here. ‘You need to leave. And not call me.’

‘Derek! Wait! Please.’

Derek shakes his head and closes his eyes and ears to Stiles’ pleas. He turns around and walks back into the house.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. This isn’t how meeting your soulmate is supposed to be, is it? Or maybe it is, when it’s one-sided.

~

Derek looks away from his empty canvas to his buzzing phone. His sister’s face lights up the screen. At least it’s not Stiles again. Stiles called and texted him almost constantly for the first couple days after Derek walked away. Part of Derek had hoped he wouldn’t stop, that Stiles would somehow feel that soulmate connection and fight for it, but Stiles did stop.

He sighs and accepts the call.

 _‘How are you?_ _’_ Laura asks.

‘I’m fine,’ Derek says, annoyed. They’ve been having this conversation every day for the past week.

Laura snorts. _‘Sure. And I_ _’m a penguin. You_ _’re not fine. I can hear that you_ _’re in your studio, and that you_ _’re not painting._ _’_

‘How the hell do you know that?’ Derek looks up to check that his sister isn’t standing in the doorway.

 _‘Your studio has a weird echo when you talk on the phone there, and you wouldn_ _’t have picked up if you were actually inspired,_ ’ Laura explains. _‘You know it_ _’s okay to not be okay, right?_ _’_

‘I know. I just…’ He doesn’t want to admit that what Stiles did hurt him so much. Yes, Stiles is his soulmate, but he only knew the guy for a month; and as it turns out, he didn’t actually know him at all.

 _‘Come over for dinner. We_ _’ll drink terrible wine, eat delicious pizza, and watch C-horror movies. Cora and I will even pay for all of it_.’

‘Does Cora know?’

 _‘It was her idea._ _’_ Laura sighs. _‘This isn_ _’t going to go away by ignoring it, Der. He hurt you, and you deserve to get absolutely plastered because of it._ _’_

Derek twirls his brush between his fingers. It’s an enticing offer. They always have a “Wine & Whine” when one of them feels bad, they did it when Laura got rejected from her dream job, when Cora had to switch back to a school in California for her master’s because she was getting homesick, and, of course, with every break up. It started when Laura broke up with her first girlfriend, when she was seventeen and Derek fifteen, Cora hadn’t been invited since she was only eleven and still a baby. They stole wine from their parents and sneaked the biggest pizza they could find into Laura’s room, where they watched reruns Sweet Valley High on her little TV. Maybe Laura’s right, maybe a night of not fighting his thoughts of Stiles is exactly what a needs, a night where he just wallows in self-pity as his sisters fuss over him.

The shrill ringing of his doorbell pierces through the loft and he cringes.

 _‘I really hate that sound,_ ’ Laura groans. _‘Couldn_ _’t you have picked something else?_ _’_

‘I’m still getting round to that,’ Derek says. He had a security system installed two days ago, and it came with a new, eardrum destroying doorbell. ‘I’ll call you back, okay?’

_‘Okay. Let us know about the Wine & Whine night._ _’_

Derek hangs up and sets his brush down, surprised to find the bristles wet. He looks up at his canvas and almost throws it across the room when he finds Stiles staring back at him. It’s barely more than a sketch, the hair a mess of dark blues and pinks, the face outlined with a pale blue-green that is almost minty. The moles are dots of bright green. Only the eyes are their original colour, a golden brown that is just not quite as vibrant as the real thing. It’s a sad painting. But it’s not bad, and Derek has always been reluctant to throw away anything he makes. So he leaves it on the canvas, and quickly walks downstairs when the doorbell rings again.

He really needs to change that sound before he goes deaf. He hadn’t thought it mattered what it sounded like when he had the new system installed and just left on default. Turns out, it really does.

He checks the shiny new display by his door. The picture from the security camera downstairs is a little grainy, but it’s still obvious who’s asking to be let inside.

He almost ignores it. Almost.

He presses the intercom button. ‘What do you want, Stiles?’

‘I have news about your paintings,’ Stiles says. ‘Can I come up?’

Derek rubs his hand over his face. Why couldn’t Stiles do this over the phone? Or send another deputy? Hell, he could’ve sent him an email.

‘Fine.’

Derek paces as he waits for Stiles to come up. He can do this. Stiles is here on business, and he can be business-like. He just needs to stop hyperventilating. By the time Stiles’ footsteps sound outside his door, Derek’s breath is more or less normal, and he opens the door.

_Oh no._

Stiles looks upset, and his cheeks are flushed from walking up the stairs. He’s not wearing his uniform, but jeans and a red hoodie that make the flush on his cheeks look even brighter. Derek kind of wants to punch him for looking so good, but he also wants to fold him in his arms and ask what’s wrong. Even after what Stiles did to him.

‘Hey,’ Stiles says. His eyes flick away from Derek’s face.

Derek squares his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. ‘So what’s the news?’

‘Well, I have good news and bad news. Bad first?’

‘Just tell me.’ He’s not going to be drawn into an actual conversation. He’s not sure he’s ready to forgive Stiles yet.

‘Okay, so, the bad news.’ Stiles pulls something from behind his back. It’s a small canvas.

‘Wow,’ Derek says, and he can’t help it, his lips twitch into a smile.

‘Yeah. I made you a painting,’ Stiles says. ‘I was going to buy you apology-flowers, but then I thought: flowers die. So, instead I painted you flowers.’

‘So that’s what those are.’

‘Ha ha.’

Derek takes the painting from Stiles, and has to press his lips together so he won’t smile too wide. It really is _really_ bad. He can’t even tell what flowers they’re supposed to be, or where the stems end and the petals begin.

‘I’m a terrible teacher,’ Derek huffs.

‘No, I’m just really bad at art,’ Stiles reminds him. ‘This would’ve looked a lot worse a month ago.’

‘I’m not sure it can be worse.’ Derek looks up. He’s caught in those pools of golden brown, full of hope and determination, and he can’t hold on to his anger anymore. He prays he’s not making a mistake when he steps aside. ‘Come in, and tell me the good news.’

Stiles beams at him and hurries past him, like he’s scared Derek will change his mind.

‘The good news is that we found your paintings. Well, technically this art guy in San Fran found them. He’d heard about the theft of your reproductions and immediately recognized the paintings, and your signature, when some guy came to him to sell them. He contacted the police. They arrested the thieves last night.’

‘That’s amazing.’

‘It gets better,’ Stiles says. ‘You can pick up your paintings any time you want.’

‘Thank you.’ For the second time since he opened the door for Stiles today, Derek has a hard time resisting the urge to fold Stiles into a hug.

‘No problem.’ Stiles looks like he wants to say more, but then he nods and turns towards the door. ‘Uhm, I’ll see you around.’

Derek’s mind races. He hadn’t wanted to see Stiles, but now that Stiles is here, he doesn’t want him to go.

‘Wait.’

Stiles stops and turns to him. The hope is so clear on his face, so raw and pure, that it takes Derek’s breath away.

‘When did you realize I wasn’t an actual forger?’ Derek asks. ‘Was it… that night? When you told me about your secret investigation?’

‘On, like, the third lesson,’ Stiles says. He looks away from Derek, his cheeks looking a little flushed.

Derek frowns. Why did Stiles keep coming back when he knew Derek wasn’t a criminal?

‘I… felt this pull. My instinct was telling me there was something about you,’ Stiles explains.

‘That cop instinct they always talk about in movies and tv shows?’

‘You watch tv?’ Stiles asks, looking around the apartment. ‘How?’

‘I have a laptop and Wifi,’ Derek says, rolling his eyes. When he focusses on Stiles again, the other man is smiling, small and a little crooked. Derek huffs, refusing to smile back. Not yet.

‘I thought it was my cop instinct, but now I think it was something else.’ Stiles hesitates. Derek has never seen him so unsure of his words, or so picky with them.

‘Just spit it out.’

‘I think you might be my soulmate,’ Stiles blurts out, his eyes wide and scared. He takes a step back, his hands flailing. ‘I know I fucked up with the whole investigation thing,’ Stiles continues, ‘but when I met you I couldn’t shake this _feeling_. I thought it was because you were shady, but now I’m thinking that it was because you might be my soulmate. And I’m not asking you to forgive me right away, or to trust me. Or anything really…’ Stiles trails off and narrows his eyes. ‘You don’t look surprised.’

Derek clenches his jaw and looks away, anger bubbling up again.

‘Oh shit,’ Stiles whispers. He looks like someone punched him in  the gut. ‘When did you know?’

‘From the first moment,’ Derek says. He feels numb. These are the words he’s been waiting to hear, the conversation he’s been dying to have for weeks, but now there’s a part of him that tells him that he this isn’t real, no matter how much he wants it be. Stiles lied to him before, maybe he’s doing it again. ‘Since I first saw your eyes.’

‘I… I’m so sorry,’ Stiles says. He takes a step forward, reaches for Derek, but then snatches his hand back. He laughs self-deprecatingly. ‘I have no fucking clue how to even start to make this up to you. I fucked up. I literally could not have fucked up more.’

Derek closes his eyes. Stiles means it. He can feel it. Every word from Stiles sounds like it’s ripped right out of his heart.

‘But I’m going to try.’ Stiles’ hand lightly touches Derek’s, and Derek opens his eyes. Stiles looks determined in a way Derek hasn’t seen before. It’s a little a scary, but it’s mostly comforting, because that determination is for him. ‘I’m not asking for anything more than a chance to earn your trust back and to be your friend. We don’t even have to hang out here. You’ve let me into your life and it’s time I let you into mine. So we can hang out at my place.’ Stiles suddenly looks uncertain. ‘Or neither, if you prefer to meet on neutral ground. We could just meet for coffee once in a while? Maybe? Until you’re ready for more?’

‘And what if I’m not your soulmate?’ Derek’s heart breaks a little as he says the words, but he has to ask. If he does this, and it turns out he isn’t Stiles soulmate, and Stiles cuts him out of his life, not wanting the one-sided connection from Derek, he doesn’t think he could bear that.

‘We’ll be whatever we’ll be,’ Stiles says decisively. ‘But first and foremost, friends.’

Derek sighs in relief. ‘Okay,’ he says, and extends his hand. ‘Friends.’

Stiles’ grin is blinding, and Derek finally allows himself to smile back.

~

Derek leans back into the couch. He turns his head to watch Stiles put the pizzas in the oven.

‘I hope didn’t fuck up the dough,’ Stiles says. ‘I have no interest in getting food poisoning. Again.’ He turns his head to glare at Derek.

‘That was not might fault,’ Derek protests. ‘Keep your eyes on the pizzas so you don’t burn your fingers!’ he warns. ‘That oven is hot, you know.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Stiles grumbles, but turns back to the oven. ‘And it was totally your fault. You told me those leftovers were less than a week old.’

‘I said _two weeks_. I distinctly remember saying two weeks.’

‘Who keeps two week-old takeout in their fridge?’

Derek doesn’t have an answer for that so he just keeps looking at Stiles, watches the frown of concentration, the slope of his back as he bends down to check that the pizzas are centred properly. And then he smiles to himself as his heart does a funny little jump in his chest.

He’d expected it to be harder to trust Stiles again, to get back where they were before, but he’s never felt so at home as here on Stiles’ couch, after making dinner together, waiting for Stiles to come back and sit next to him so they can watch a movie. It’s only been a couple weeks of them mending their friendship, but Derek feels like they’ve already progressed beyond that.

‘Fuck!’ Stiles shouts. He’s flapping his hand around, face contorted in pain.

Derek shoots off the couch and is next to Stiles in a second. He turns on the faucet, and shoves Stiles’ hand under the spray.

‘Keep it there,’ he orders, then closes the oven and starts the timer before Stiles can injure himself even more.

‘It’s not even a real burn. It was more the shock than actual pain,’ Stiles protests, but he keeps his hand where it is.

Derek ignores him, and the protests that follow when he cuts up some cucumber and presses it to the reddened skin. It doesn’t look bad, but it’s best to be safe.

‘Thanks.’

Derek looks up and realizes how close they are. There’s barely two inches between them. He can feel the heat radiation off Stiles’ skin. He should step back. He should let go of Stiles’ hand. But Stiles isn’t pulling back either. Instead, he’s looking at Derek, his expression open and soft, eyes roaming over Derek’s face, and asking him to stay exactly where he is. Derek complies with the silent request. He didn’t want to pull back, anyway.

‘How would you know?’ Derek asks after a moment of silence.

‘Know what?’

‘If I’m your soulmate?’ The words catch in Derek’s throat.

‘I—’

‘Where do you need to touch me?’

Stiles frowns. ‘How do you know my Soulmate Sense is Touch?’

‘To say that you’re tactile is an understatement,’ Derek says with a smile. ‘So, where?’

Stiles chuckles and squeezes Derek’s hand. Then his expression turns serious. ‘Why?’ Stiles counters Derek’s question. ‘Why now? Why not that night I came to apologize?’

‘Because I’m falling in love with you, and I need to know. I just… I need to know it’s not just me.’ Derek moves a little closer. ‘But I think I’d be okay now if it was just me.’

‘Okay.’ Stiles extracts his hand from Derek’s and puts the cucumber on the countertop. He wipes his hand on his shirt, then reaches his hands up so they hover over Derek’s shoulders. ‘But just so you know, whether you’re my soulmate or not, you’re my _something_ , because I’m definitely falling in love with you, too. You’re not alone in that.’

Without waiting for Stiles to touch him, to find out if they’re mutual soulmates, Derek closes the distance between them and presses his lips to Stiles’. Stiles’ hands land heavily on Derek’s shoulders, digging his nails into the muscles has he holds on tightly. Derek stumbles back from weight that suddenly falls from his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d felt with his feelings, or heavy those feelings were when he carried them alone.

Stiles slides his hands up to scratch at the short hairs at the back of Derek’s neck, and he smiles into the kiss, forcing the kiss into a series smaller kisses. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, pulling him as close as he can, and smiles too.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


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